


Five Times Dean Kissed Sam and One Time Sam Kissed Him Back

by elegantdalek



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Five Times, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantdalek/pseuds/elegantdalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only none of those first five kisses really counted, when you actually look at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Dean Kissed Sam and One Time Sam Kissed Him Back

## ONE. September 1983. Kansas.

_Whether from dumb luck or fate it’s appropriate (for this story anyways) that Dean’s first ever kiss is with Sam. Of course Dean was only 5, and in later years, whenever asked, he always said his first kiss was with Katy in 6 th grade, but even then he remembered the ill-fated morning in Lawrence. It used to be a source of embarrassment, but later became almost novel and a sweet (or possibly bittersweet) memory. _

_Sam, for his part, didn’t even know about it until years and years later, not even by the end of this story. Dean shyly confessed one cold morning huddled up with Sam during a stake-out, and Sam’s reaction was Dean’s precise reason for not telling him sooner. But Dean secretly enjoyed the mocking and teasing that ensued._

Having a little brother turned out to be a lot more work than Dean expected. He had to share his toys, even though Sam just stuck everything in his mouth. He had to help feed Sam, one airplane after another, even though he knew in a few hours he’d have to help mom change Sam’s diaper. It was gross.

But every morning, first thing after he woke up, Dean ran into Sam’s room to make sure he was still alive. Sometimes Dean was afraid Sam wasn’t breathing, and would hold his own breath in sympathy, but then at the last second Dean would realize Sam was actually breathing the entire time and he’d wake Sam up and tell him the whole story. Sam probably didn’t understand Dean (because he never answered, even when Dean shouted) but that didn’t stop Dean from telling Sam everything.

Dean’s favorite thing to tell Sam was all about the fun games they would play when Sam was big enough.

“Only I’ll always be bigger than you, okay Sammy? Because I’m the big brother.” Sam laughed and raised his arms in the air. “But it’s okay because I’ll still play football with you, okay? Just like dad. I’m _way_ shorter than him and he still plays with me. But, probably, when you’re my age, I’ll be even taller than dad. Won’t that be funny?”

When mom came into Sam’s room a half hour later she found the boys rolling around on the floor, and the only response she got, when pondering aloud at how Sam got out of his crib, was a giggle.

“Dean,” she pressed, mind full of sleep and slight annoyance at her trouble-making boys.

“Superbaby!” Dean cried out. “He’s Superbaby! Vroom vroom!” Dean did his best to fly Sam around the room but he wasn’t strong enough until mom laughed and helped.

“Our son is a superhero, John!” she yelled out the doorway, and a few minutes later dad was there too, and all four of them were laughing together.

When Dean was tired he crawled onto the floor with Sam and watched mom and dad dance around the room. Dad dipped mom really close to the floor and she laughed, then leaned up and kissed him.

“Mom?” Dean asked, and mom turned around, breaking the kiss. “Why do people kiss?”

Dad smiled. “Well son, you kiss someone because you love them.”

“And because they love you back,” Mom added.

“Does Sammy love me?”

Mom leaned down to ruffle Dean’s hair. “Of course he does, sweetie. You’re his brother.”

Dean looked over at Sam, smiling at him, and without thinking too hard, kissed his brother right on the lips. Sam’s face looked funny so close up, so Dean closed his eyes, but then Sam giggled and Dean had to quick take his head back before Sam’s tongue got on his face. “Sammy,” Dean laughed, and hugged Sam carefully, just like mom showed him.

Mom laughed out and when Dean looked back, she had her hand over her mouth, grinning up at dad. “They’re sure going to be a handful in a few years.”

 

## TWO. December 1996. Minnesota.

_We all know how that story ends. Best not to dwell on it. That’s not the point of this little collection of stories. But you can hardly get through a story of Sam and Dean without, whether intentionally or not, mentioning someone’s death._

_And after mom’s death Dean didn’t want to kiss anyone for a long time. Especially not Sam, not when dad told him not to anymore._

_Then, slowly, days turned into years and Dean was old, almost an adult, and practically the only thing he ever thought about was kissing girls. Particularly at the event of our next scene, the second time Dean kissed Sam without much forethought. Well, if we’re being honest, he probably didn’t even realize it was Sam until it was actually happening._

_Weed does funny things to your brain._

“It’s your turn, Lauren!” A voice shouted, way too loud, to Dean’s left. Or maybe it was behind him. Except, no, they were in a circle, because someone had the bright idea to play spin the bottle. Who the fuck plays spin the bottle when they’re in high school?

Dean held his breath as he watched Lauren spin. He’d lost track of how many people he’d kissed, at least like 30, and a lot of them were guys, too, but he really wanted to kiss Lauren, right now.

Most of the group leaned back and forth as their eyes followed the bottle around until it slowly stopped. On _Sam_ , who was only here because dad forced him to tag along with Dean. But once everyone was stoned they didn’t care that Sam played the game too, even though he’d refused to smoke any pot.

“No fair,” Dean mumbled, but watched as Lauren awkwardly stumbled on her knees to Sam and lightly kissed him. Sam thanked her, the weirdo, and she sat back down. Dean stared at Sam, for like ten minutes, trying to think of some sort of insult, but he lost his train of thought when the bottle started spinning again.

“Me, me, me,” Dean chanted, not even caring whose turn it was now. He was so fixated on the bottle that he didn’t even realize at first when it landed on him. “Yes,” Dean said, and struggled to his knees. It took so long that by the time he looked up Sam was right there, waiting to kiss Dean, only Dean was over-eager and beat Sam to the punch, kissing him good and long, before his brain caught up with the rest of his body and he pulled back shocked.

“Not smoking ever again,” Dean muttered, looking into Sam’s face, which was quite red. A few people wolf whistled and startled Sam into moving back to his place.

But then Sam immediately stood up and left the room. It took Dean ages to find him, sitting on the porch steps, and even then Dean practically crashed into his legs. “I’m sorry,” Sam said, and suddenly Dean was filled with such shame and self-loathing.

“No, Sammy, I’m sorry,” Dean said, sitting down next to his brother. “Who the fuck gets so stoned he doesn’t realize he’s kissing his own brother?”

Sam’s eyes were really close to Dean’s and for a second Dean was sure he was going to say something, like _something_ something, but then his face broke into a grin and the moment passed. “That _was_ pretty epic. You’re legendary, Dean. I’m gonna tell all the seniors about this at school Monday!”

“You wouldn’t dare, bitch,” Dean said, laughing with him, and barely put up a fight when Sam insisted on driving home.

 

## THREE. August 2001. California.

_It only took another five years for Dean to kiss Sam for the third time. But in terms of both parties being completely aware of the kiss, it was really the first. Unless excessive tears count as a handicap, in which case, nope, this kiss didn’t count either._

_Because_ someone _was stupid enough to leave the only family he had for California, the place of hopes and dreams, and soon-to-be home place of one Sam Winchester. Dad was furious, but Dean was an entire dictionary of emotions. Sam was on the top of a very short list of things Dean could depend on. Dad was practically gone from that list too, so what was left? Pie? You, the reader, possessor of the knowledge of Dean’s future, know that the Impala will be on that list soon, but currently John Winchester owns that car. Of course, you also know that Sam will return, one day, in a few short years, but as far as Dean is concerned, today is the end of the world._

It was so familiar, dad dropping Sam off for school before heading out to research or hunt with Dean. Every few towns dad and Dean would get jobs instead, some legitimate, some not so much, but they’d still drop Sam off for school every morning and pick him up at the end of the day.

They weren’t going to pick him up at the end of this day, though. Because the school Sam needed dropping off at was Stanford, and it wasn’t going to give him back.

Stanford wasn’t a prison or anything, but dad made it painfully and loudly clear that Sam was not welcome with the Winchesters anymore.

Well. One of the Winchesters wanted Sam. Desperately. But Dean knew better than to try fighting dad. The brief argument last night had been enough for him.

Besides, he was pretty mad at Sam, too. He’d only found out about the whole “college” thing the day before dad. Sam had been so upset, almost crying, and Dean so stunned, that he didn’t try to argue with Sam.

But now, sitting in the car, watching Sam get out, and knowing he wouldn’t come back, was too much. He felt like his heart was breaking. Actually, fuck that. His heart was already broken.

Dean watched in horror as dad said a gruff goodbye and put the car into gear, ready to drive away to the next hunt.

“Wait!” Dean yelled, suddenly, and forced the passenger door open.

For a second Dad looked like he was going to break the window with his bare fist, but he composed himself and let Dean get out of the car. “Two minutes,” he said, and drove off, presumably around the block. Campus was so crowded with new students and parents and trucks full of couches that it would take dad a few minutes to get back to pick Dean up.

Dean was left standing next to Sam, who wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Sam, please,” Dean said. “Just let me-“

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Sam interrupted, quietly but surely. “I don’t wanna hear how mad you are, or how mad dad is, or what I shoulda done different. Or anything, okay? Just that you’ll miss me.”

“Sammy,” Dean said, chest clenching.

“Please, Dean. Just tell me that you’ll miss me and then I won’t remember anything else about today.”

Sam was still stubbornly gripping onto his bags, two meager, worn down things. “I will, Sam,” Dean said, yielding.  “I’ll miss you so fucking much.” Sam finally looked up into Dean’s eyes and bit his lip. “I love you, kiddo,” Dean said gruffly, and pulled Sam into a hug before he could start crying.

But Sam was crying, so softly, and holding onto Dean’s shoulders so hard he’d probably have bruises for a few days. Dean held on just as tight, and thought about how in five minutes Sam would be gone, not coming back, and suddenly couldn’t speak even if he tried.

Instead of saying anything more, Dean pulled back, smiled sadly at Sam, and without really thinking about it, kissed him softly on the mouth.

Sam certainly looked shocked afterwards, just as Dean felt, but before either could compose themselves enough to talk, the horn of the Impala sounded through the crowd of the students. And the last contact Dean had with his brother was a final squeeze of his hand and a lingering feeling on his lips.

 

## FOUR. May 2007. South Dakota.

 _Before we continue, we should briefly discuss what_ almost _became the fourth kiss. It was the night Dean broke into Sam’s apartment, after all that time apart, and Sam attacked him before he realized who it was._

_As Dean gazed up at his brother he hadn’t seen in years, he was overcome with so many feelings that he wanted to kiss Sam. It felt like the logical action. But Sam was above him, just out of reach, and Dean was vaguely aware of another person in the room. (Not that it would have mattered, if you really wanted to know.)_

_But the point is moot, because Sam pulled him up, and Dean was face to face with Jessica, and none of his feelings had any place there._

_So with a few deaths, demons, and cross-country road trips later, we arrive at the fourth kiss. Which Sam didn’t even know about.  Well, actually, he didn’t know about the first one either, but that was because he was a baby. This time it was because he was dead._

_We know, of course, that it’s only temporary, but right now Dean is stuck in the smallest room in the world: the room with his brother’s corpse._

Words were pointless, yet all Dean could give. After kicking Bobby out, actually yelling at him (which made Dean feel like shit, but he just couldn’t deal with that right now), Dean talked to Sam for hours. He told him all the stupid things he did while Sam was at Stanford. He told Sam about the girls and the hunts, the pies and the beers. He even told Sam about all the lonely nights, feeling so lost with only the bottom of a bottle to look forward to.

Dean kept expecting Sam to respond, laugh or make fun of Dean, but he didn’t, and that just made it worse. Talking to your dead brother was pretty depressing.

He realized, of course, that the only thing to do was summon a crossroads demon. He figured that out after a few hours, but he lingered, worried something would go wrong, and what if he never saw Sam again? So Dean kept talking, giving Sam his heart and tears, and finally, hesitantly, a few kisses.

Sam was cold, which made it worse, but that didn’t stop Dean. What was necrophilia compared to everything Dean had done? And besides, Sam wasn’t going to be dead for long. Dean would either bring his brother back to life or die trying, and he knew he couldn’t leave without kissing Sam. He realized that, too, in all the talking he did. Dean wanted to kiss Sam. He needed to kiss Sam. And more importantly, he needed to return Sam to life so Sam could kiss him back.

 

## FIVE. November 2007. Vermont.

 _Okay, so Dean didn’t kiss Sam after he brought him back to life. He wanted to, so bad, but there were all those demons to deal with, and Bobby, and everything else, that Dean kinda forgot how determined he’d been. The important thing was that Sam was_ alive.

_And, again, time went by. Sam figured out about the deal, they fought some demons, and met a few crazy chicks. And through the whole time, Dean keep looking at his baby brother, wanting but not doing anything about it._

_But, as you read a few dozen words ago, this is kiss number five. So Dean did finally do something. Though, yet again, Sam wasn’t aware it happened. At first._

Dean had found himself in yet another ridiculous situation with Sam. They were in fucking Vermont freezing their asses off. They’d finally managed to kill the damn thing they were hunting, but they were cold, it was the middle of the night, and in the frenzy of the hunt, Dean had forgotten to fill the car up with gas.

So they were stuck on the side of the road, with no cell signal in the middle of nowhere, and had nothing else to do but try to get some sleep in the Impala and walk or hitch a ride in the morning.

Sam was mad at Dean and Dean was mad too, their bickering the only thing keeping them from completely losing it, but after ten minutes of trying to fall asleep, Sam in the front and Dean in the back, Sam huffed angrily and stepped out of the car.

“Fuck!” Dean said to himself, preparing to go out into the night after Sam, but a second later the door next to him opened and Sam shoved Dean over so he could shut the door. “The fuck man!” Dean said, glad Sam hadn’t actually taken off down the road.

“We’re both freezing, Dean, might as well try to share body heat,” Sam said.

“I’m not snuggling with you, dude,” Dean said pointlessly, as Sam, giant that he was, maneuvered into a comfortable position. Sam leaned half against the door, half against the seat, spare jacket tucked behind his back, and pulled Dean awkwardly onto his lap.

“Shut. Up.” Sam said, before Dean could even say anything.

Dean still squirmed, unsure of what was happening. Sam sighed and shifted slightly, and suddenly Dean was, remarkably, comfortable and actually warming up. Sam’s arms wrapped protectively around Dean’s back, and he gingerly rested his head against Sam’s shoulder.

Sam hummed softly, and squeezed Dean gently. Neither said anything more, and it was actually kind of nice, huddled up with Sam. Dean had forgotten how wonderful physical contact was. 

And then Dean must have fallen asleep, because he woke suddenly, sometime later, and was warm. He was turned on his side, curled up against Sam, and it was the most peaceful he’d been in a long time. Sam’s eyes were closed and he was snoring slightly, breaths tickling Dean’s cheek. Dean realized with a start that he was completely within kissing distance of Sam. And lying there, wrapped in Sam’s arms, looking up at his beautiful brother, he couldn’t remember why he’d never kissed Sam after bringing him back to life.

So he did, just like that, lips curled possessively around Sam’s. He kissed Sam like he’d always wanted to, not muffled with pot, or under a veil of tears or death, but open and honest and true.

Sam was probably going to wake up, but Dean didn’t even care.

 

##  ~~SIX.~~ ONE. The rest of their lives.

_At least it only took six tries. I know of some couples that lived together for years, kissing and failing, over and over, before finally realizing that it didn’t work out at all. And all those years of their lives were wasted, tiptoeing around the wrong person._

_Can you imagine?_

_Oh, but don’t worry. That didn’t happen with the Winchesters. Did I worry you for a second?_

Sam woke up.

Of course he did. But he didn’t even look surprised. Just whispered, “finally,” and “took you long enough,” before leaning down for another kiss.

And this time Dean didn’t stop. 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in parts to my tumblr (imjamesbarnes).


End file.
